


Over My Head

by somenewsarah



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somenewsarah/pseuds/somenewsarah
Summary: Dylan Brice is the newest edition to the Behavior Analysis Unit, and from the start she's caught the attention of Spencer Reid and Derek Morgan. How will this play out?(Seasons 1-14!)
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Reader, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. The New Girl in Town

**Spencer**

My desk is a mess. I can’t think like this, can’t focus. Logically, I know all it would take is a simple ten minutes to get things back in order, but I can’t focus on that. Not when Hotch is calling us into the center of the bullpen. 

“Team,” he starts, his voice authoritative. “We have two new agents joining us this week, and I want you to welcome them warmly. SSA Jason Gideon will be returning to the BAU and joining him will be SSA Dylan Brice. Reid, please get the desk set up across from yours for SSA Brice.”

“Yes sir,” I mutter.

“And Reid?” I raise a brow. “Clean up your desk.”

I rock on my heels as Morgan and JJ chuckle.

“Hear that, Pretty Boy? You’re gettin’ sloppy,” Morgan pokes fun at me, but I don’t mind so much. It’s all in good fun, right?

The following morning, I get up and shower, allowing my mind to wander to the possibilities of the day. Something about the air feels different. Maybe it’s the pollution, or maybe a new chemical in the water. Either way, something is different and I’m not entirely sure if it’s a good different.

I dress like I usually would: khakis, a button down, and one of my comfort cardigans. Can never go wrong with a cardigan. 

The coffee stop is much needed this morning, but my order’s out quickly and I’m in the office 20 minutes before I need to be.

That’s when I see him. The legend. Jason Gideon.

He walks in and heads straight to Hotch’s office. I didn’t even get a chance to speak to him. Statistically, he’s solved more cases than almost any BAU official, though that doesn’t include his recent meltdown that I’m sure everyone is acutely aware of.

I settle at my desk, setting up a little welcome card for SSA Brice. I hope he’s not an incessant know-it-all. There’s only room for one of those.

Just then, a woman… no… the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, walks up to my desk. I’m the only one in the bullpen besides Hotch, so maybe I could be of some help. Her black hair bounces in wonderful curls, and her eyes… wow. The most perfect hazel eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” I stutter. “Can I.. Can I help you?”

She smiles at me and I swear my heart stops. Her little dimple pops through, the little freckle on her cheek standing out.

“Maybe,” she smiles. “I’m Dylan Brice, today’s my first day?”

Dylan.. Brice? 

“Oh, the new agent?”

“Yeah,” she smiles again, and my heart quickens. 

“Oh,” I say again. I just kind of nod at her.

“So,” she starts. She rocks on her heels, her eyes wander the bullpen. I can tell how hesitant and nervous she is based on her body language. She holds her things close- they give her comfort. She leans away from me and never puts her back to the wall. She’s nervous, but she’s smart. She can’t hold eye contact with me for more than a few seconds. Intimidated.

“Oh!” I gasp. I stand and pull out the chair at the desk opposite to mine. “This is your desk. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” she smiles again. She sets her things down on her desk and sticks her hand out for me to shake. Gross.

“I don’t really-“

“Germs?” She asks. She has the decency to drop her hand and I chuckle.

“Something like that,” I smile. “Our Unit Chief, Agent Hotchner is meeting with Agent Gideon right now. I’m sure he’d like to speak to you.”

“There’s my favorite boy genius!” I hear Morgan exclaim. I breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Morgan,” I nod. I sit at my desk again, my eyes scanning the pages upon pages of paperwork I already have. 

“And who do we have here?” He asks. He stops at Brice’s desk to examine her. 

“Dylan Brice,” she beams at him. She doesn’t extend her hand, but Morgan does.

“Well, it is lovely to meet you, Dylan Brice,” Morgan smiles. I roll my eyes. What a flirt.

~

Dylan is slowly introduced to the rest of the team, and it doesn’t take long to find her footing here. She’s warm. Bright. Someone that I kind of detest. How can one person be so positive? There’s too much bad in the world.

“We have a case,” Hotch announces from the top of the bullpen. 

We move quickly. Morgan hangs back with Dylan, giving her somewhat of a tour as they move to the round room. I can’t help but feel like he’s showing off, but why? Obviously he’s attracted to her. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But do the brains match the beauty?

We’re briefed quickly and soon after we’re on the jet to Seattle. 

My heart hammers in my chest as I look over the case files. I try to make patterns, put together anything I can think of to help build the profile of the unsub. 

“Look at this,” I say. I offer the file to Gideon. “Look at the strangle marks on her neck. There’s nothing personal about it. No sign of remorse, nothing.”

“You strangle someone, it’s personal,” he retorts.

“Do you think his targets are random?” Dylan asks. She points her question to me.

“I think so,” I say. I purse my lips. I can’t take my mind off the file. Something feels different… off.

~

“Everyone, this is Elle Greenaway. She’ll be joining us for this case, perhaps more in the future,” Hotch tells us.

“Hi,” Elle smiles. She has a hardness to her. A kindness that I can’t really place. Hopefully she won’t get in the way.

~

I’m assigned my room and immediately am disgusted by what I find. The sheets are crunchy. It smells like a morgue. The air doesn’t work, nor the heater. I thought Seattle was supposed to be nicer than this.

Nevertheless, I unpack and go through my usual process of setting the case files where I can see them, setting my books by my nightstand, and producing my own towels from my bag. There.

There’s a knock on my door.

I answer it quickly, and it’s none other than Dylan Brice.

“Hi,” she smiles. “Sorry to bother you, um.. I ordered some takeout and you’re my neighbor until we finish, and I thought it’d be nice to work on the case together, maybe?”

“Oh,” I nod. “Sure, yeah. That sounds good.”

I open the door and let her in. She sets the food down on the empty dresser housing the television.

“I know being the new kid kind of sucks for everyone, so I thought I’d extend the olive branch.”

“How’re you finding the BAU?” I ask. It’s more to be polite than anything.

“I mean,” she starts. “I’ve been here one day and I’m already using my go-bag. But so far I really like it! The people have all been really spectacular, too. Especially Penelope. She’s insanely sweet. Suspiciously sweet.”

I can’t help the laugh that comes out of my mouth at the mention of our favorite tech analyst, love guru, pastry chef, and nerd gamer, Penelope Garcia.

“Garcia is…” I start, trying to find the words. “Something.” I land on. 

Dylan laughs, and I can’t help but laugh, too. She turns and pulls some Chinese takeout from the plastic bag.

“Chinese is my favorite,” she starts. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” I smile. I take a container of orange chicken from her and some chopsticks. “Did you know that Chinese food actually has the world’s largest variety of taste flavors?”

“I didn’t know that,” Dylan says. She takes a bite of her lo-mein and makes herself comfortable at the table. “What makes it so diverse?”

I’m immediately caught off guard. She wants to hear about this?...

“Traditional Chinese food has five flavor profiles that they work with: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and spicy,” I ramble. “But that doesn’t take into account the different variations of the five through the separation of cuisines throughout the Northern and Southern parts of China.”

“I see,” Dylan says. She munches on her noodles quietly. “Any other interested facts, Dr. Reid?”

“You can call me Spencer,” I smile. 

“Okay,” she smiles. “Spencer. That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks,” I nod. I should get better at taking compliments. God, she’s pretty.

~

In the field, we find clue after clue of the unsub, and it gives us the profile that we’re looking for. Gideon presents it to the local task force, and we set about, giving the profile to anyone that could be of use to our investigation.

To everyone’s (my) surprise, Agents Greenaway and Brice hold their own. For being new to the bureau, I think it’s only natural that I underestimated them both. I won’t ever make that mistake again.

As we board the jet, I find myself standing at the small coffee station with Morgan.

“What a case,” he sighs. Cases involving strangled or raped women hit him the hardest. He’s never told me why. “Glad it’s finally over.”

“Weekend plans?” I ask. I pour my cup of coffee and add my 6 cubes of sugar. He smiles into his own coffee cup.

“Oh, I’m working on those,” he looks over his shoulder to Dylan. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

“It’s been like three days, Derek,” I laugh. “You don’t know anything about her.”

“That’s why I’m going to ask her out,” he shrugs. “No better way to get to know each other than over a nice steak dinner.”

“Maybe she doesn’t like steak,” I mumble. Chinese is her favorite. Not that I care where he takes her. If she says yes.

“Only one way to find out, pretty boy,” Derek grins.

He turns and takes the open seat next to her. I watch for a moment as her face contorts. She’s interested alright, but maybe not entirely? Something’s off, but it’s not my business what.

Oh well. Just another woman swept away by Derek Morgan.


	2. Dangerous

**Dylan**

The loud music of the bar distracts me from my own life for a moment. My first case at the BAU was… not what I was expecting.

“So, Dylan,” Penelope starts. She sips her drink. “How’re you liking Quantico?”

“I haven’t really gotten a chance to explore much,” I admit. “But the first chance I get I’m gonna visit the state park, maybe the military museum. Any recommendations?”

“Did you know that every year, roughly 600,000 people go missing in state parks? Most of the time, they completely vanish and traces of them are never found,” Spencer states. He looks like he’s going to continue, and I’m curious as to what all he knows. Before he can speak, Morgan interrupts him.

“Boy Wonder is right,” he laughs. “Maybe you should take someone with you.”

“What, don’t think I can handle myself?” I grin. Derek leans towards me, ever the flirt.

“Oh, I know you can handle yourself,” he grins back. “I’m just saying maybe it’d be nice to have a tour guide.”

“I know of an excellent tour guide service,” Spencer chimes in. “It’s relatively cheap to get a guide, and probably more helpful than going by yourself.”

“I think he was talking about himself,” JJ laughs. 

“He was definitely talking about himself,” Elle giggles.

“I’m just saying,” Derek holds up his hands. “I just thought it’d be nice.”

“It would be,” I smile. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

Penelope makes eyebrows at me. I sip my drink slowly, savoring it. That is, until Hotch approaches our table.

“We’ve got a case,” he announces.

The flurry from the table is immediate. We all abandon our drinks, grab out coats and bags, and are out the door in seconds.

~

“This is from the Phoenix office, Bradshaw college in Tempe. Six fires in seven months,” Hotch says. His eyes tell me he’s worried, but about what I’m unsure.

“Who recorded it?” Gideon asks.

“A student with a digital camcorder,” JJ answers. I flip through the file, looking at photos of the fires. There’s some students in the photos, and the worry and distress etched on their features makes my stomach curl. I look up, locking eyes with Reid. He gives me a knowing nod; it affects him, too. “The other person you’ll see in the video is his roommate, 20-year-old Matthew Rowland.”

JJ presses play on the video, and I hold my breath. The camera angles to the top windows of the building and inside the fire blazes on. It hadn’t made it to the frame of the building yet. I force myself to breathe. Fires and arsonists are my weak point. I hate how unpredictable they are, how angry and violent they always seem to be.

The students notice someone standing at their door, trying to get in. Gideon watches, his eyes hard as stone.

“It smells like gas,” one of the boys announce. I watch in absolute horror as he catches on fire. The screams are what always get me. They’re pained and full of hurt and fear, and I can’t blame them. They’re literally burning to death. The worst way to go, in my opinion. The video is hard to watch, but JJ thankfully turns it off.

“Wheels up in 30,” Hotch announces. “We’re going to Arizona.”

~

On the plane, I sit at the very back, my gaze locked between the window and the file folder that rests on my lap. I sit Indian style in the seat, trying to get comfortable. 4 hours to go.

Derek moves from his seat with the team and sits in the seat in front of me. 

“Baby girl, you good?” He asks. He leans forward, his gaze on me.

“Yeah,” I utter. “Why?”

“I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but this is only your second case with us and you’re already starting to look burnt out,” he says quietly.

“I’m okay,” I nod. “Really, I am. Arson cases are harder for me, I used to work them all the time. I just… I left the fire department because it got too intense.”

“I understand that, but you’ve gotta keep your head in it. Your cases are probationary until Hotch thinks you can handle this,” Derek says. He takes my hands in his own, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. “I know it can get really hard and the things we see and the things we do are scary, but this entire team has your back. You’re one of us now.”

“Thanks, Derek,” I smile. He nods and stands, still holding my hands.

“Let’s join the team,” he insists. “Come on.”

“There are two common stressors for an arsonist,” Reid starts as Derek and I sit across from him. He moves his chess pieces around his board.

“Loss of job,” Elle starts, watching the expressions of the team. I know she’s just as nervous as I am to contribute, but we’re determined. 

“Loss of love,” I finish for her. She offers me a small smile. “When was the first fire set?”

“March,” Hotch answers. “The next one in May, and the third wasn’t until September, and then two weeks later there were three in one night.”

“He’s speeding up,” I whisper. “The fires are closer together.”

“Hey Reid, you got any statistics on arsonists?” Morgan asks, keeping his eyes on his file.

“82% are white males between 17 and 27. Female arsonists are far less likely, their motive typically being revenge,” Reid spits. Honestly, this man is like a computer. 

“A student,” Elle deduces.

“Don’t be so sure,” Gideon starts. “You rely too much on precedent, you never allow for the unexpected.”

~

There’s a small knock on my hotel room door, and I open it to find Derek standing on the other side.

“Hey,” I smile, opening the door for him. “Come in, I’m just getting settled in.”

“I just wanted to check in,” he smiles. “I didn’t mean to come down so hard on you on the plane, I just wanted you to know that.”

“I know, Derek. Your words were helpful, I promise. Sometimes I get in my own head and forget that I’m still on trial here.”

“Well, you’re doing great,” he smiles. He sits on the edge of my bed and pats the seat next to him. “I really saw you opening up on the jet. You were incredible.”

“Oh please,” I roll my eyes, humbled by his words. I knock my shoulder into his. “You’ve been doing this much longer than I have, I’m sure my few thoughts were nothing major.”

“It takes a team to do what we do,” he says. “Don’t ever forget that, or undermine yourself. You can be great, Dylan. I believe that.”

I smile, his words touching me far more than I would ever let on. Before I come completely undone, I roll my shoulders and offer him my brightest smile.

“What do you say we grab some pizza and unwind for a bit?”

“You inviting me to stay?” He raises a brow.

“Sure, why not?”

~

I walk into the burnt down dorm rooms behind Reid, examining the damage done by the flames.

“The door was locked,” I inspect.

“Matthew and his roommate watched as the doorknob turned against the lock,” Reid says.

“But the unsub couldn’t get in,” I continue for him.

“So he pours the accelerant into the room from the hallway.”

“Which means,” I start, thinking hard about the unsub and the motives. “He couldn’t see the fire.”

“But he could hear Matthew screaming,” Reid pushes.

“Yeah,” I manage. My stomach rolls. “But not for long. He would’ve left quickly to avoid being spotted. It doesn’t make sense. Not against the profile.”

“Pyromania as a mental disorder may just be a simple myth, but we do know from precedent that serial arsonists derive pleasure from pathological fire-setting.”

My mind reels for a moment. It’s like seeing the case file as individual puzzle pieces. I stare at Reid, not even aware that I’m staring directly at him. Suddenly, two pieces fit.

“Sex and power.”

“But a serial arsonist wouldn’t just set a fire and walk away,” Reid thinks aloud. 

I pace the room, my fist under my chin as I continue staring at the puzzle in front of me. What was I missing?

“He needs to experience it,” I say, still just thinking aloud. “So why would he set a fire that he couldn’t watch?”

~  
Reid and I walk out from the dorm buildings and to the SUV, moving in step silently. My head reels. The unsub would have to relive the fires over and over again, walking away from it just isn’t in his nature.

As I climb into the passenger side, Reid looks over to me.

“You doing okay?” He asks.

“Yeah,” I nod. “I just can’t figure this out.”

“I know it’s frustrating,” he nods. “We’ll get it. We just have to make the pieces fit.”

“Do you see the case like giant puzzle pieces, too?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It’s the easiest way for my brain to comprehend what’s going on.”

“Mine, too,” I admit. “That video was difficult to watch.”

“It was,” he agrees. “Do you maybe want to get some Chinese tonight? I know you said it’s your favorite, and I thought maybe if we’re gonna be here another night, company might be nice. We don’t have to talk about the case or anything, and of course, if you don’t want to you’re always-“

“Spencer,” I cut him off. “I would love to.”

~

“Brice, Morgan, take the left. Reid and Elle will take the back, me and Gideon on the right,” Hotch instructs.

With our unsub straight ahead and her entire plan out of reach, unbeknownst to her, we have her cornered. It’s only a matter of stopping her before she kills the three students trapped in the elevator. 

I track behind Derek, gun drawn. My heart thuds in my chest, but I ignore the unwelcome roll of my nerves. We track down the hallway, towards the screams coming from the elevator. It smells faintly of gas and ash, though I’m unsure where it originated.

“Right here,” Derek whispers. We come to the edge of the corner, waiting for the signal from Hotch.

“Clara, you don’t have to do this,” I hear Hotch say.

I peak around, watching the young girl on her knees, holding the lit torch close to her.

“I have to do this,” she retorts, eerily calm. 

“You know it’s not rational, Clara,” Hotch pushes. “You were trying to tell me.”

“God chose me to be tested,” she whispers. “And now He’s chosen them. If I don’t do this something terrible will happen.”

She begins to lower the torch to the gas. Hotch tries again to talk her down.

“Should we push?” I ask Derek. My fingers involuntarily crinkle into his shirt as anxiety creeps up my neck.

“Stay put,” he whispers over his shoulder. “Hotch will signal if he needs us to surround.”

I hear the telltale pop of Hotch’s gun. I jump, startled by the gun. I peak around again, seeing Gideon putting the fire out with his boot. It’s over. Really over.

~

On the plane ride home, the exhaustion of my first two weeks at the BAU catches up to me. I lean against Derek, curling up in my seat under one of the woven plane blankets. He rests his head atop mine, letting out a deep sigh.

“You did good out there, kid,” he smiles. I feel his lips press to the top of my hair.

“Thanks, Derek,” I mumble. “I appreciate your kindness.”

“Don’t mention it, baby girl.”

~

Exhausted doesn’t begin to cover the feeling coursing through my body as I step off the plane and head out to my car. Paperwork could wait until tomorrow.

“Wait up!” I hear someone call. I turn, finding Spencer Reid running towards me. “Hey, you live in the Parkside complex, don’t you?”

“Yeah?” I question. “How did you-“

“I have an eidetic memory. I saw your file,” he admits sheepishly. “I was wondering if I could have a ride?”

“Get in, Reid,” I relent, a small smile on my face.

As we climb into my car, a comfortable silence falls upon us. I drive slowly, fighting my own exhaustion as I roll to a stop at each red light. Reid seems content to just be still for the drive, and silently I thank him. I don’t think I’m up for conversation. I fantasize about my warm bed, my covers, my big bathtub that I love so much, and my favorite quilt waiting for me.

I climb into the elevator, Reid not far behind.

“What floor?” I ask, pressing the number 4.

“Uh,” Reid smiles, staring at the lit number. “4.”

“Oh,” I squeak. I offer him a smile, and the rest of the short ride is silent.

“Well,” he starts.

“Well,” I smile. I turn towards the right. “Goodnight, Reid.”

“Brice,” he smiles. I watch him go left. 3 doors down from me.


	3. It Was Love at First Sight, At Last Sight, At Ever and Ever Sight

**Spencer**

There’s something to be said about the way an aged bookstore smells. Perhaps it’s the leatherbound notebooks, or the age of the paper bound together so beautifully. Or maybe there’s something to be said about the morning after a thunderstorm, when the roads are still wet and the air still full, but only briefly cleared of all imperfections.

Days like today make me happy. Days where I don’t have much work to do, where my mind is free to roam as much as I’d like while I walk the sidewalks of Quantico. It roams to mysterious places- sometimes places of literature, sometimes places of equations, maybe even the faces of either bored or way too intrigued students while I lecture.

Today, though, I give myself one singular moment to let my mind wander to places of hazel eyes and little dimples. A fleeting moment. A brief thought of “is she okay after that last case?” And then the moment is gone, and I’m walking straight into the comforting warmth of my favorite bookstore, where I’m sure my order for Vladimir Nabokov’s ‘Lolita’ was sure to greet me. I wasn’t wrong.

“Hey, Spencer!” The cashier smiles. Her name is Anna, and she is a delight. Probably only seventeen or eighteen, she’s tiny in a way that is only physical. Her nose is almost always buried in a book. She is my most unlikely friend. “Your book came in. I had to double check it was really for you.”

“Thanks,” I laugh. I know she means well. “I was surprised to be ordering it. I’ve never read Lolita, I wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”

“It’s a good read,” Anna smiles. She pushes the book over the counter to me. “$12.23.”

“I’ll be sure to let you know what I think,” I smile. I pay for the book and hold it between my fingers, growing accustomed to the weight of it. 

The humid air hits me harder than I imagined it would as I step out of the store. I’d love nothing more than to sit in a park, under the sun and a shady tree, and read my book. Since everything is wet, I choose not to.

~

“Reid,” Morgan says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I put Lolita down and tilt my head up at him. “Snap out of it, boy wonder. Hotch needs your files by nine.”

“I finished hours ago, and submitted it,” I admit. I raise my eyebrows at him, pleased with myself. 

“Then what the hell are you still doing here?” He chuckles.

“Just absorbing,” I wave my book at him. “I didn’t feel like being alone.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “It’s actually really fascinating the way the brain works when one is left alone for long durations of time. We as humans are social beings, and our brains can’t handle loneliness as well as, let’s say, a bar full of shouting people and noise. Statistically speaking, 85% of humans-“

“Reid,” he cuts me off. “Go home.”

I look around the bullpen, noting that Morgan, JJ, Hotch, and myself are the only people in today. It seems that everyone else has taken advantage of the clear air, the sunny skies and are out and about.

I stand almost immediately and grab my bag.

“Morgan,” I start. 

“What’s up?”

“Did you- You know what? Never mind,” I smile. He raises a brow at me, but I just sling my bag over my shoulder and exit, book in hand. 

The sun peaks through the trees as I decide to walk home. It’s only about four miles, nothing too strenuous. Along the way, I stop several times, reading line after line as fast as my brain can process.

The story of Lolita is far more interesting than I gave it credit for. There’s a line that sticks out to me that I can’t seem to shake. Part two, chapter 29.

‘It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.’

It’s meaning tumbles about inside my head, and it forces me to put the book down as I walk. I drop the book into my bag and shove my hands in my pockets, absorbing the sunshine on my face as I think.

It was love at first sight- okay. Attraction. Love at first sight only means the rush of serotonin and dopamine from your brain when you see something physically pleasing. It’s the same rush the first time you touch someone, the first time someone expresses gratitude in a way that is unfamiliar. The first time you fall in love. The rush of hormones building up create this wall of feeling that isn’t really as deep as we ever think it is.

It was love at first sight, at last sight; I think the addition of ‘at last sight’ is what continues to trip me up. Could this mean that true love does exist? The idea seems preposterous, but I suppose it can’t be ruled out entirely.

It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight. Something clicks in my brain and I think I understand. It’s about gazing upon which you love forever, right? Finding the person who makes you better, who you love the most, and holding onto them. Holding onto the feeling that you get when you open your eyes and theirs is the first face you see.

That, or Nabokov is a total creep and Lolita is actually kind of gross in context and theory. Either way.

I finally reach my apartment building and I’m almost upset by it. It seems like such a beautiful day to be wasting when I could be spending it soaking up some much needed sun and fresh air.

I’m almost disappointed until I walk inside and see Dylan struggling with her groceries at the elevator. She drops bag after bag as she waits for the doors to open. 

“Hey, let me help,” I say immediately. I bend to pick up the bags at the same time she does, scooping at least three of them in each of my hands.

“Spencer, you’re a lifesaver,” she breathes. “My pantry was completely empty and today was my only day off.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” I swallow. “I get it.”

She laughs heartily, but it doesn’t last long, because the elevator doors slide open and we step inside. I peak into the bags I’m holding, doing my best not to pry.

“Interesting selection,” I laugh, looking at the assortments of beef, chicken, salmon.

“I’m cooking dinner tonight and I don’t know what to make,” she laughs. Her cheeks pink up. “I’m not very good at cooking or dinner dates.”

“Ah,” I laugh. “Dinner dates can be hard. I’m glad you’re getting out there and meeting people, though.”

The elevator doors slide open and we step off to the right, just two doors down the hallway. I didn’t realize she lived this close to me.

“Not exactly meeting people,” she giggles. She unlocks her door and pushes it open, almost tumbling through with the groceries in hand. There’s nothing I can do to steady her.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and as we set the groceries down in the kitchen- which is the exact same as mine- I have to ask.

“So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Huh?”

“Well, you said you had a dinner date, but you hadn’t gone out to meet anyone new, so I’m only assuming it’s someone we both know, since you’ve only been in the BAU for about a month now,” I explain.

“That big brain of yours,” she laughs. “You don’t miss a thing do you?”

“I try not to. It’s funny actually,” I smile. “The amount of things I pick up on in a day. Despite my IQ, anyone can pick up on the amount of things that I do. Our brains are all wired differently, yes, but you can rewire your brain perse. It just takes a little attention to detail and time.”

“I see,” she smiles, and I’m surprised that she doesn’t cut me off once. She’s kinder than anyone probably gives her credit for, but she still doesn’t answer my question.

“So?” I press. She shifts nervously and the guilt washes over me like last night’s rain. “Oh… I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I was just curious, is all, and sometimes I don’t know how to read social cues very well. Again, if I overstep-“

“Spencer,” she laughs. “It’s okay. I’m cooking dinner for myself and Derek tonight.”

“Oh,” I nod. Derek Morgan. I’m not surprised in the slightest. I almost expected it, based solely on our conversation from the place a few weeks ago. “Well, have fun.”

I turn on my heel to head for the door.

“Would you like to join us?” She asks, but I’m sure it’s to be polite. When I turn to look back at her, she looks hopeful, but guilty. She knows Derek won’t like my joining, though he’d never say it out loud.

“I wouldn’t crash your date like that,” I smile. “Have a nice time.”

“Thanks, Spence,” she smiles.

I beam at the nickname and head back to my apartment. I put on a pot of water for some tea and get cozy on my leather couch, Lolita in hand.

~

There’s a small knock on my door at around 11pm. I didn’t even realize that I’d fallen asleep on the couch, having long since finished Lolita. I’ve decided that it’s actually incredibly creepy and kind of psychotic that this book is about a 12 year old and can still be considered a classic. Disturbing world we live in.

I open the door, and there stands Dylan Brice in all her glory. She holds up two takeout containers, Chinese no doubt, clad in her sweatpants and t-shirt with the rolled sleeves.

“Dylan,” I blink. I register the surprise on her face that my ‘sleep voice’ is deeper than my normal voice. I must look terrible. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, God,” she mumbles. “I should’ve called first, I’m so sorry. I woke you up, didn’t I? I suck.”

“No, no,” I assure her, chuckling. “I fell asleep reading. It’s actually really good that you woke me up, otherwise I would’ve had this weird thing with my neck. Come in.”

I push the door open and she steps inside.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding,” she apologizes again.

“You shouldn’t apologize so much,” I say. “Makes the needed apologies that much more genuine.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I usually am,” I smile wryly. “What brings you here?”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started,” she breathes. She plops on my couch and tucks her feet beneath her legs.

“Bad date?” I guess. I eye the part of me that wants her to say yes. Why do I want her to say yes so badly?

“I blew it,” she breathes. “I was so stupid! I couldn’t think of a single thing to talk about other than work. The food wasn’t even good.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” I try. “What did you talk about?”

“Literally nothing, Spencer,” she sighs. She runs a hand through her hair. “It was ridiculous. There was about a five minute stretch of uncomfortable silence and then we started talking about work, and then cases, and then made fun of Hotch for a minute. It never shifted from work.”

“Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing,” I offer. “You two haven’t known each other long at all. It can take over 100 hours over the span of three months to really get to know someone, so in all actuality it wouldn’t make sense for you to feel incredibly comfortable around him just yet.”

She just stares at me. Maybe that wasn’t what she wanted to hear? I tilt my head, trying to figure her out, but her face is impassive as always. She moves her chicken around with her chopstick, and it occurs to me that I haven’t even touched mine. 

“I guess you’re right,” she says. I can tell she’s bummed out, so I do the only thing I can think to do to cheer her up.

“I could talk to him, if you want?” I offer. “Derek’s a pretty understanding guy. I’m sure he feels differently about it all.”

“Would you really?” She perks up. I decide in this moment that I like seeing her glow like this. Happy, maybe. I like how happy she looks. I’ll do anything to keep that happy glow on her face.

“Yeah, sure,” I say with finality. “Now quit moping, we have so much food to eat.”

mas·och·ist  
a person who takes pleasure in pain and suffering.


	4. I offer a kiss, my bed, my body. And then, for my own trick, I disappear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Smut, drinking, grinding!
> 
> Also, sorry for the poor smut, she's a lil rusty hahaha.

**Dylan**

Days off when working for the BAU are rare. So rare, in fact, that I can’t decide what to do with myself for the entire day. It really is a beautiful day, and I feel the need to be out in the open air, in the warm sunshine.

So, that’s exactly what I do. I put on my best pair of shorts, my favorite tee, and haul my ass out of the house and to the park, where I know I will see some fluffy dogs playing frisbee or running or lounging. It’s been so long since I was around some form of comfort, it’s definitely needed.

On my walk to the park, I decide to call my best friend since 9th grade, Leah.

“Dylan?” She answers. “Everything okay? It’s noon?”

“Yes, it’s me,” I laugh. “I have the day off today, just wanted to check in, see how things are back home?”

“Florida’s great, as always,” she giggles. “It’s definitely not the same without you.”

“I know,” I sigh. “How’re James and Jenny?”

“They’re good! They miss Aunt Dylan though.”

“I miss them, too,” I sigh.

James and Jenny are the cutest twins in the world. Leah worked her ass off to get her business degree and opened her own little boutique that she loves more than anything in this world. It’s called Empire and it’s probably her proudest achievement. Her husband, Samuel, works in constructions and during the winter does trucking for a multitude companies in and around my hometown of good old Orlando, Florida. 

“We’re scheduling a visit ASAP!” She chirps. She chatters away about her life, telling me all the fun things about parenthood; how James and Jenny are at each other’s throats one minute and are best friends the next, how Jenny is potty trained fully now, but James is still struggling. She shares every aspect she can squeeze into the phone call. I miss her greatly.

“How’s Empire?”

“It’s fantastic!” She sing-songs. “I just got these new antique wooden chairs in and they are just darling! I’ll send pics when I get them all set up. How’s the BAU? Any fun cases yet?”

“Oh, nothing really. I’ve only been on a few but they were quick cases,” I share. “The second case was an arson case.”

“Oh no,” she sighs. “How’d you handle it?”

The fire flashes behind my eyes, I can hear the screams in the buildings, the smell of burning flesh. I know she’s inside. I snap out of it quickly.

“I handled it well. I’ve made some wonderful friends who have my back here. It was okay,” I say. I don’t know who I’m trying to convince- her or myself. 

“I’m glad, Dylan. That’s really great,” I can hear her smile. “Hey, I need to get back to the shop, but I love you, and I want you to call me more!”

“I love you, too, Leah,” I grin. “I’ll check in when I can, I promise!”

~

“Spence,” I whine as he changes the music. He doesn’t look over at me from his seat on the couch. “Please? That was Abba. I love Abba.”

“I know you love Abba,” he rolls his eyes. “But we’ve been listening to Abba for an hour. I think some classical music after an hour of Abba is perfectly acceptable. Classical music is good for your brain, you know.”

“I know,” I pout. “But Abba is good for the soul.”

Spencer sighs and pushes himself further into the couch cushions. Inwardly I celebrate, because I know I’ve won.

“Fine,” he pouts. He switches the sound system back to Abba, and Mamma Mia is the first song to come on.

“I love this one,” I smile contentedly. I close my eyes, swaying to the music silently. Mamma Mia holds such a special place in my heart, there’s no musical better, in my humble (and uneducated) opinion. “Did you know that when Mamma Mia first premiered, it grossed a total of 70,000 tickets sold?”

“I did not,” Spencer smiles wryly.

“Spencer Reid doesn’t know something?!” I gasp. “Shocking.”

“Oh stop it,” he rolls his eyes. He stands and fixes his sweatpants. “This is the worst movie night ever, by the way. Listening to Abba doesn’t count as hanging out.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to make some tea,” he announces. 

“Oh,” I smile. “Make me one?”

“I was already planning on it,” he grins. “Green?”

I nod. Spencer really is the best friend I’ve made here. Sure, it’s fun hanging out with Penelope and Elle, it’s fun catching up with JJ, but there’s nothing quite like spending time with Spencer Reid on a relaxing and rare day off. It’s been this way for the month that I’ve been here. After my terrible dinner date with Derek, Spencer was there to help smooth things over. He understands me in the greatest of ways, and yet, he’s never asked anything personal about me.

“Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?” He asks, poking his head out of the small kitchen.

“You’ve never asked about my life back home,” I say, playing with my fingers.

“Oh,” he says. His brows furrow as he brings my cup of tea into his small living room. He passes me my cup and resumes his seat next to me. “I just thought it made you uncomfortable.”

“It does,” I agree. “But still, I thought you’d ask.”

“Anything you want to tell me about is welcomed, Dylan, I just didn’t want to pry.”

“No, I know,” I smile. “Is there anything you’d like to know?”

Spencer steels himself, his brows furrowed in deep thought. He crosses his legs under him and leans towards me, his eyes intense and looking anywhere but my face.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’d like to know everything.”

He finally looks up at me, and I’m sure my cheeks are completely red and heated. Maybe more heated than his. The small blush that creeps up his neck doesn’t go unnoticed, though I’m not sure if that’s from the tea or from me.

“I was born and raised in Orlando, Florida. One older brother, one younger sister. I used to be a firefighter until I decided I wanted to go back to school for criminal justice,” I share. Keep it simple, keep it basic.

“What made you want to change career paths?” He asks, his head tilted.

I stare at my cup of tea as steam swirls in the air from the cup. I’d rather not share this part, but I think I might finally be tired of keeping it to myself.

“I’ve witnessed the evil people you love can do,” I murmur, my eyes trained on my cup. “And I want to use all of my time stopping those people.”

Spencer places a hand on my knee and my eyes snap to his, mostly out of sheer surprise. Spencer and I don’t really touch because of his aversion to germs. He immediately pulls his hand away, but I reach out and grab it. His hand is far larger than mine, his skin smooth as silk. His thumb trails on the back of my hand.

“You don’t have to tell me anymore,” he whispers. His voice grows huskier as he speaks. “Thank you for telling me anything in the first place.”

“Of course,” my voice drops to a whisper too. “You’re the best friend I’ve probably ever really had.”

I think of Leah and feel like I might be betraying her with these words, but in this moment it feels truer than anything I’ve ever said before. I rely on Spencer Reid far more than I’d ever thought I would in the mere month that I’ve known him. Maybe it doesn’t seem like much, but our daily interactions at the office and on cases and at work float through my mind and it all makes sense for right now.

Spencer retracts his hand.

“What movie are we watching?”

My phone chirps, breaking the moment entirely. I reach to grab it and see a text from Penelope, inviting me out to club with herself, Elle, Derek, and JJ. Man, can this team party.

“Hey, Penny just invited me out,” I say. “Do you wanna come?”

“No thanks,” Spencer swallows. 

“I can say no, if you wanted to watch the movie,” I offer. I don’t want to hurt him, but I would like to catch up with my other friends.

“Dylan,” he smiles. “You should go. I’ll be fine, I have plenty of books to read and things to keep myself occupied. Don’t worry.”

~

I stand in front of my mirror, examining myself for what feels like the millionth time. Everything I put on just doesn’t feel right. First it was the short black dress with the lace overlay. Not comfortable enough for dancing, and the fabric is kind of itchy.

Next was the red body-con dress, but that just didn’t feel right on my body in the slightest, and also, it’s far too short and far too revealing for my taste.

So now, I stand in front of the full length mirror in my favorite black leather mini with the indecent slit up the side, revealing far more thigh than I’m used to. To match, I added a white ribbed tank with a cute little cut in the middle, leaving a little more to the imagination. Some fishnets and combat boots fit for dancing later, and I’m ready to go.

Penny texts me that they’ve arrived, and I scramble downstairs to enter the taxi.

~

The club thumps with rhythm. Everyone around me dances, sings, drinks. Anything and everything goes here. Holding a vodka cran in one hand, my other hand in the air, I let me body follow the rhythm of the music, swaying and grinding and bumping with those around me.

“You’re killing it out there!” JJ exclaims as I finally make my way back to the table. I down the rest of my drink, my fourth drink, and push the glass on the table. The alcohol runs through my veins, making my body warm and my head woozy. 

“You should come dance with me!” I shout back to her. I look around, spotting Derek and Penelope dancing in the center of the floor, really moving with the music. Elle is in the lap of a man in the VIP section, her arms around his neck as she trails kisses along his jaw. She moves fast and I’m envious. And horny.

I pull JJ to the dance floor, keeping her close to me as I dance my ass off. I feel hands slip around my waist, and I look over my shoulder to find Derek there, pulling me tight against him. His lips move to my shoulder and I lull my head to the side, resting the back of it on his chest.

“It should be illegal to move like that,” he murmurs into my neck. I groan, letting my alcohol induced haze take over as I grind against him, holding his hands against me. 

“Maybe I can show you some other moves somewhere else,” I groan back to him. His hands travel the length of my torso and my arms move to wrap around his neck, feeling every rippling muscle of his shoulders.

“That’s a dangerous offer, babygirl,” he whispers, now nipping at my neck.

“Then take me up on it.”

~

Derek fumbles with his keys in the doorknob of the door I’m currently pressed against. My lips travel down his neck, nipping and sucking as he finally unlocks the door. He hoists me up by the backs of my thighs and my legs instantly wrap around his waist.

His kisses are furious against my own as he bites on my bottom lip. I’m carried through his apartment and he all but kicks open his bedroom door. He drops me on his fluffy bed and I watch with big eyes as he pulls his shirt over his head. I marvel at his body, moving my fingertips down and over each and every ab as his fingers play with the fabric of my skirt.

I lift my hips and he pulls my skirt and underwear down together in one fluid motion. Heavy breathing and a few mewls later, and his mouth is on me, kissing and lapping at my most intimate parts. My fingers grip the sheets and I groan and plea and scream all at once it seems as his tongue circles my clit. He slips a finger inside of me, and then two, and I’m panting.

“Derek,” I mewl. “Derek, please!”

My back arches off the bed, and I know he’s enjoying every minute of ripping me apart. His tongue moves faster in quick succession with his fingers, his groans radiating from my core as my eyes squeeze shut.

I’m building faster than I probably ever have as his tongue and fingers work me over. Right as I’m about to cum, oh what a delicious orgasm it would be after so long… he stops.

My back arches off the bed as I whine. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him on top of me.

“That wasn’t very nice,” I pout.

Derek laughs that beautiful laugh. He kisses down my neck again, and I’m all breathy and wide eyed as I stare at his ceiling.

“Condoms?” I ask.

“Slow down, baby,” he utters against my earlobe.

“No,” I whine, really drawling it out. “I want you so bad.”

“I know babygirl,” his whispers, and the chill that runs down my spine is delicious and meets my core with a thrumming force. “You’ll have me, I promise.”

I sigh and wiggle out from under him. He gives me a questioning look, but I shimmy down the bed and begin unbuckling his belt, ready and eager to free him if he wasn’t going to free himself. As soon as his cock springs free my eyes widen. It’s not the length that’s shocking, but the girth. He’s thick and long and beautiful.

Derek leans back on the bed, resting his head on his palms as I take him in my mouth, sucking him deep into my throat. He hisses through his teeth and moves one hand to my hair, wrapping it in a ponytail.

“Mmm,” he groans. “Just like that, baby.”

I moan at his words, knowing the vibrations are hitting his tip that’s smashing against my throat. I swirl my tongue around his head, savoring the groans that fall from his lips. Men moaning are the hottest thing… knowing that I can be their undoing with only my mouth is encouragement enough.

What I can’t fit in my mouth, I take special care of with my hand. I pump him in rhythm with my mouth, sucking him harder and harder.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. His head falls back and I feel his hips starting to buck, fucking my mouth. His free hand tangles in my hair, and I take that as my sign to suck back up to the tip and trail kisses down his shaft. He tastes warm and hard, like my own Derek flavored popsicle. 

He whines as I take his balls into my mouth, rolling them around with my tongue.

“Fuck,” he hisses. 

I grin and kiss back up his bare chest until I’m straddling him.

“Condom now?” I ask cheekily, grinning down at him.

He nods quickly and motions to his nightstand. I open it quickly, producing a Skyn condom. I rip it open and roll it onto his length, then sink onto him. The full feeling is… exquisite. I take a moment to adjust, my head falling back as I finally start to move.

“Oh my- fuck,” Derek hisses again. I hum as I start bouncing on his cock, moaning louder and louder every time his hands find one of my nipples. 

“Derek!” I moan, my body doubling over as my thighs start to ache.

His hands are on my hips and suddenly my back is on the mattress and he’s thrusting into me so hard and so fast, stretching me, filling me, hitting spots that hadn’t been hit in forever. 

My fingers claw at his back and I stifle my moans with my face in his neck.

“So fucking tight,” he groans as he continues pounding into me. 

One brush of his lips on my neck and I’m cumming around him, my back arching, my moans turning to something of a squeal as all of my muscles tighten around him.

“Fuck!” he groans. His hips twitch, and I know that he’s finishing inside me- well, inside the condom.

We’re sweaty and panting, and the effect of his cologne swirling around the room is almost hedonistic.

Derek rolls off of me and onto his back. When he finally looks over at me, we’re both grinning and giggling like post-coital idiots.

~

I’m warm. Too warm. Arms are around me, I feel breathing on my neck but for the life of me I can’t remember where I am.

As the sun streams through the window, I finally force my eyes open to find myself wrapped up in none other than Derek Morgan. He looks peaceful while he sleeps. No frown lines, no worry on that pretty face. Pure serenity.

As I’m studying him, his own brown eyes open and gaze back at me. A slow, lazy smile etches across his features and he pulls me in tighter.

“Good morning,” he mumbles, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.

“’Morning,” I whisper. I turn in his arms to snuggle into his neck. “So that wasn’t a dream?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I’m glad it wasn’t. That was incredible.”

“I think so, too,” I smile. 

He places a kiss to my forehead, and I suddenly hear my phone vibrating off the hook. Derek’s starts vibrating as well, and that can only mean one thing.

We have a case.


	5. Rain on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan goes undercover for the first time- things don't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: Mentions of Rape, mentions of death, mentions of murder!

**Spencer**

My knees can’t keep from bouncing as I sit at my desk and focus on my computer screen ahead. My head bounces with idea, with quotes from novels, with thoughts for novels I’ll probably never write. After a boring weekend, one filled with books and Anna and pizza, I find a great comfort in my work, specifically today as I know Hotch has a new case coming in.

When we’re called into the round room, I notice two faces missing- Dylan and Morgan. My mind absently wonders if they’re together. Maybe in bed. Maybe in the car on the way here. Or maybe they’re just two adults living two completely separate lives. Maybe she’s in her car, blasting Abba and NSYNC in the way that’s far too loud and far too distracting, and maybe he’s jogging to work. Maybe he’s driving, too, but in complete silence. 

I don’t have to wait long. The door opens just as JJ is setting up the case files, and Dylan and Morgan enter. His hand is on the small of her back as he guides her into the room. I can’t take my eyes off that hand.

“This is going to be a rough one,” JJ mutters. 

Elle looks at her, and the comment seems forgotten as we each receive our case files. 

“We have 4 different victims, Natalie Hawthorne, Tiny Day, Ashley Bryan, and Kaitlyn Myers. Each brutally raped and murdered and left naked from the waist down in the bushes by a resort pool,” JJ starts. I bristle.

“What’s the victimology?” I ask, shuffling through my file. I note that each of the victims look eerily similar. “It seems personal, like he knows them or is intentionally seeking them out.”

“They’re all brunettes,” Elle comments. She studies the photos.

“Are they murdered the same way?” Dylan asks. 

“No,” JJ answers. “The methods are torturous, designed to make them suffer, but they’re all different.”

“Our unsub chooses them because of how they look,” Gideon starts. “We should start looking into a background, find out why he chooses these women. It can be something as simple as a neglectful mother.”

“Neglectful mothers are anything but simple,” Morgan starts. “Do you think it’s possible that this could be something like an ex?”

“Possible,” Hotch says. His eyebrows furrow. “Signs would point to an ex-lover of some sorts. He wouldn’t rape someone he enacted on because of his mother. We need to get to Miami. Wheels up in 30.”

~

On the plane, I resign myself to a window seat and pull the file onto my lap. I know this case will be a bad one, and I need to prepare myself for that. Unsubs like this, the unpredictable ones, are the hardest to catch. But are they really unpredictable if we know they’re going specifically after brunettes? It’s just so vague, only 8% of the US population is naturally brunette, and that doesn’t even account for those that dye their hair.

As we take off into the sky, I find myself mulling over these facts.

“Are the women murdered naturally brunette?” I ask, chewing it over in my mind. Where is he picking these women up? Like he just knows where to find them…

“I can’t tell,” JJ says.

I see Dylan holding up the photos. She eyes them for a moment, then drops them back to her lap. 

“Yes,” she concludes. “It looks to be completely virgin hair, completely untouched by any chemicals.”

“How can you tell?” Elle asks, leaning in. 

“Look at the color of the roots as compared to the rest of the hair,” Dylan says, pointing to the different parts on the photos. I find myself leaning in as well, watching her hand as she traces the patters of the hair. “It’s normal for hair to lighten with time and sun exposure, but the tips of the hair are almost completely identical to the roots and the eyebrows.”

“I see,” Morgan says, leaning over her shoulder. She turns her face to his and I notice her cheeks heating up before she pulls away. “So how’s he finding the women?”

“I mean,” JJ starts. “How does anyone pick up women?”

“Could be anywhere,” Gideon says from his slouched position on his chair. “Bars, hotels, the resort itself. When we land we’ll find out.”

“I have Garcia looking into the victims to try and trace a connection between the victims,” Hotch says. “All of these women look the same.”

“That’s the strange part,” I agree. “Statistically speaking, only 8% of the US population is naturally brunette. Don’t let the small number deceive you, though, because that equates to roughly 2.3 million people in the United States alone. So really, if you want to delve into the probability of how many victims he can accrue before we catch him, based solely on the number of brunette women in one populated area-“

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts me. “We got it.”

“No, let him finish,” Dylan says. She looks back at Morgan, her fact twisted. It’s like she’s annoyed with him? “Spencer, please.”

“Oh,” I start. “It’s not a big deal. To sum it up, the odds of us catching him are a lot higher than you’d think. Being that he’s formed this sort of pattern, if we can figure out who he’s simulating these killings with and how he’s finding the women, it should tell us exactly where he is.”

“Boy genius, huh?” Elle asks. “How would that tell us exactly where he is?”

“By his geographical comfort zone,” I nod. 

~

As we approach the police precinct we’ll be setting up at, I can’t help but hear the argument unfolding behind me. Dylan and Morgan speak in heated whispers as they walk up the pathway and I intentionally slow my walk to be able to hear them better while still being as natural as possible.

“Are you really doing this right now?” Morgan hisses. “Of all the times, you want to do it right now?”

“I don’t like the way you treat him,” she hisses back. Her voice barely grazes above a whisper but the rage is there. “Like he’s some sort of bug you need to squash.”

“I don’t!”

“You do!”

“Dylan,” he tries. I hear her stomp away from him and the rustle of her jacket as I assume he grabs her arm. “Dylan, I’m sorry, okay?”

“You were being an ass.”

“I was being an ass,” I hear Morgan relent.

“You’re not very subtle,” Elle says. She knocks her elbow against my own. “Listening to the couple’s quarrel?”

“They’re not a couple,” I chuckle. “Do you happen to know what they’re fighting about?”

“Oh, please,” Elle laughs. “They might not be a couple but they’re definitely gettin’ it on.”

“Do you think so?”

“You didn’t see the hickeys?” She laughs as she walks forward into the police station. 

“Wha-“ I start, chasing after her.

~

“Sir, he’s bouncing off of too many towers, I can’t get him,” Garcia says. “I can’t get an accurate location, but I DID find something!”

“Well?” Hotch asks, impatient as ever.

“I found a message board that is frequently posted on called CityData.com. One post in particular about wanting to meet more brunette women caught my attention,” Garcia rushes. “I tracked the IP address, went through every wall he threw up, and I got it. This is how he finds women, through the message board. I’m sending links now.”

My phone chirps and I look down at the site, my eyes scrunching together. He promises them money, fame, and a “great time.”

“Gross,” I sigh. “Okay. We know that this guy was engaged, ex calls it off, now he’s taking his anger out on women that look like her. Classic motive, but it still doesn’t explain why these women are going. There must be some reason he chooses them out of all the responses.”

“Guys,” Dylan breathes. “Right here. The connection. They’re all recently single women staying at the resort. They're not from Miami, they're just visiting. Penelope, you’re the best.”

“We’re gonna have to go in,” Gideon says. “If we can’t rely on a location, if we can’t go to him, we’re going to have to bring him to us.”

Hotch takes a moment to process this. He eyes the only three women on location with the team. JJ is out, she’s blonde. Not his type. Wouldn’t take the bait. It has to be either Elle or Dylan.

“Brice,” Hotch starts. My heart kind of drops. “You’ll go under cover.”

“Sir,” Elle protests. “With all due respect, I have years of experience in the sex crimes unit. If he’s brutally raping women, I can help.”

“Exactly,” Hotch says. “You’re much more useful here where we can use your knowledge and expertise. Brice, do you think you’re up to it?”

“Yes, sir,” she nods. 

Morgan’s jaw tenses next to her, but she looks determined. She’s not going to care what anyone thinks.

As the team disperses, mostly to get Dylan ready, she offers me a warm smile.

“Hey Spence,” she smiles. “How’d your Saturday night go?”

“Oh, you know,” I laugh. “Quantum physics and Beethoven and all that. What about yours? How was the club?”

“It was-“ she stops, her cheeks heating up. “It was fun. We had a great time.”

“Hey, maybe once we get back we can try to watch that movie. What was it?” I ask, though I remember clearly what she was forcing me to watch. There’s only so many ways you can forget the words Mamma Mia.

“Spencer,” she cackles. “You don’t have to watch Mamma Mia if you don’t want to. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings. I know it’s not really your thing.”

“No, no,” I insist. “Apparently it’s one of the highest regarded musicals of our generation! I’m sure that doesn’t automatically mean it’ll be good, but Meryl Streep is in it, and she must be great either way.”

“You like Meryl Streep?” She eyes me.

In truth, I don’t really like Meryl Streep. I didn’t even know who she was until about two days ago when I looked up all the cast of the movie she so desperately wanted me to see. How could I turn her down when she asked so sweetly? Of course it wouldn’t be me.

“Who doesn’t?” I offer.

She seems pleased by this, and her smile is just radiant. Soon, she’s whisked away to get ready for her assignment, and I remember where I am. It’s flooring, really, to know that I feel so happy when we’re about to send her running into the arms of a serial rapist and killer. Fear creeps into my stomach, stifling any chance of a good day I’ve had. I think of the other four women, and I wonder if she’ll be number five. 

~

I fumble with the cables in my hands, trying to follow Garcia’s specific instructions to the T, but it isn’t going well.

“Baby Genius, have you never mic’d someone before?” She teases.

“No,” I pout. I hand Dylan one end of the wire.

“Wrong end, Spence,” she laughs. She grabs the other end and runs it down the back of her shirt. “Just clip it here.”

I clip it, my knuckles brush against the exposed skin of her chest and I feel my insides churn. Her cheeks tint pink, and it’s odd enough to be noticeable. Could I be affecting her, too? Impossible. She’s one of my greatest friends. Maybe it’s my aversion to germs that she respects all too well.

“Got it,” I whisper. Her eyes are big as she looks up at me.

“I hear you loud and clear, Baby Genius,” Garcia says through the receiver. I take a step back from Dylan, not wanting the close proximity to make her uncomfortable. “You’ll be safe, right?”

“I’ll do my best,” she smiles. I know she’s nervous. Who wouldn’t be? She’s doing that thing where she wrings her hands together and toys with the insides of her palms- she does it so often that anyone would notice, but she’s incredibly good at hiding it.

“We’ll be here every step of the way,” I assure her. I know no one on this team would let anything happen to her. “You’ll be okay. Just don’t try and be a hero.”

“I won’t,” she says.

Morgan enters the conference room where we’re working and approaches Dylan. He places a hand on the inside of her arm.

“You okay, babygirl?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I assure you both, I’ll be fine. I appreciate the concern, but I went through the same training you did.”

“I know, I know,” he relents. “We just want you to be careful out there.”

“I will be,” she nods. She steps off towards the door, and I swear Morgan watches her every move.

~

The warm summer day heats me up everywhere. I’m too warm in my cardigan. The Miami humidity seeps down into my clothes, my hair, my skin- it’s everywhere. I can’t breathe in this heat. Can’t think. I try to refocus, but it’s just so hot. A chill runs down my spine as I feel the trickle of sweat beading on the back of my neck.

I stare through the binoculars, watching Dylan. She’s sitting at bar in her little summer dress, looking every bit the part of a single woman on vacation. I watch her flirt with the bartender as she sips another cocktail.

“I’m almost envious,” Elle says as she watches.

“Same,” JJ agrees.

“Guys,” I start. “Not the time. She’s here to lure a murderer slash rapist, I don’t think she’s feeling particularly relaxed.”

“He responded to our forum post,” Garcia says after a moment. It’s enough to have all heads snapping to the radio. 

“Hotch,” JJ says into her sleeve. “He took the bait.”

“He said he’ll be there at sundown and to meet him in the lobby,” Garcia says. 

“Can we get an angle from there?” I hear Gideon ask in my ear.

“We can try,” Morgan responds, again, in my ear.

Myself, Elle, and JJ keep watch in the van, keeping tabs on Dylan’s every move while Hotch and Gideon sit in the car outside of her hotel room we purposefully booked- it’s the most open one. Morgan is at the cabana as well, but he’s the bellboy. The sight of him in his little suit cheers me immediately. 

“Morgan, make sure you offer to take her luggage to her room as soon as we get a visual. We need him to follow her in,” Gideon says.

“Got it,” he responds.

I rock on my heels, making myself comfortable for the time being. Sunset must be no more than 30 minutes away, but it feels so much longer in the heat of the van. We take turns taking watch. Me for 5 minutes, then JJ, then Elle. I offer to take double watches, though, otherwise my paranoia might take over.

Finally, when the sun sets, we move inside. We’re posted at various corners of the resort, all with direct sight to Dylan. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I know that he’s here. My stomach drops as he spots Dylan. He stalks towards her, like a predator to a prey.

“Hi!” I hear her say. “You must be Alan.”

“That would be me,” he purrs. He takes her hand and kisses it softly. “You must be Gina. What a divine name for such a divine woman.”

He’s tall, 5’8-5’9, and he’s lean but there’s a hint of muscle that ripples beneath his skin. His blonde hair is perfectly kept and his fingers are long and manicured. It clicks in my brain, then, why all of these women so willingly go with him. He’s like the Derek Morgan of unsubs. He’s perfect. A walking Ken doll.

Dylan leads him into the resort and down the hallway where her room is.

“I’ve got a visual,” I say into my sleeve. “She’s taking him inside.”

“Copy,” Morgan says. He follows the two, offering to take the luggage inside. Insists, even.

As soon as Morgan is out and the receiver is planted, I hear it whir to life and I can suddenly hear everything going on in the room.

“Should we sit?” Dylan asks. 

“I think you should,” he says. I notice the tone of his voice has hardened significantly, but we were expecting this. “Did you think I wouldn’t know who you are, Dylan Brice?”

My heart drops. The wire is cut. Everything is silent. We didn't expect _this._ My heart drops in my stomach and I look at Morgan, who's eyes are wide as he looks back at me. There's nothing to do but wait.

I watch the door, my heart thumping. 

"SPENCER!" My name slices through the silence, followed by a scream. She's in trouble, and we aren't in yet. 

“Go, go, go!” Hotch instructs. I have to get to her. 

cha·os  
complete disorder and confusion

**Author's Note:**

> POV's will alternate between Spencer and Dylan's.  
> Updated every Friday!


End file.
